


Fire Rose

by Mear



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Back-Stabbing, Daenaerys and Viserys have been replaced, F/M, General odd behavior on the Targ's part, Gratuitous OCs, Targaryen Madness, Targaryen loyalist Tyrells, Three living Targaryens, but the Essos plot is changed, massive canon divergence, the Westeros plot is the same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mear/pseuds/Mear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aobrey Tyrell is promised to Laerys Targaryen, the youngest remaining member of the royal line. For the Targaryens, this is an advantageous alliance that promises aid in the retaking of Westeros. For the Tyrells, this is an attempt to cement their hold on the Iron Throne. Yet if the secret marriage is discovered, the wrath of King Robert Baratheon will be inescapable. </p><p>(Loosely based on an AU played out by me and a few friends)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Highgarden

Aobrey Tyrell strolled through the rose maze in Highgarden, enjoying the afternoon warmth. She was never happy to be cooped up all day while the sun shined, and had slipped away from her handmaidens to take a quiet walk. Aobrey liked to be alone with her thoughts; the birds flitting about the maze were company enough for her. She had plenty to keep her mind occupied on her walk, particularly the upcoming tournament in Kings Landing. Her older brother Loras would be competing, and she was the perfect age to be presented to the court. Margaery would be going, of course, and Aobrey had been praying constantly to the Mother that she would be allowed to go as well. She hoped, as the youngest daughter of House Tyrell, that she would be able to find a suitor in Kings Landing.

"Aobrey!"

Aobrey was startled out of her daydreams by her sister Margaery. They looked nothing alike; Aobrey's golden hair and fine features starkly contrasted with Margaery's copper hair and delightful round face. Margaery had gotten the prominent Tyrell genes, while Aobrey resembled their mother in all but hair.

Aobrey turned to greet her sister with a smile, though she was disappointed that her walk was cut short. "Damn, I almost thought I had escaped," she teased. When she saw Margaery's forced smile, her own good humor wavered. "Margaery? What's wrong?"

"Father wants to see you."

Aobrey frowned. That in and of itself was not a bad thing.

"Why? Is he angry with me?" Aobrey asked, searching Margaery's expression for anything that might tip her off as to why she was in trouble. Margaery only shook her head.

"No, he's not angry." She smiled gently at Aobrey, something the youngest Tyrell usually found comforting. This time it only made her worry.

"What's going on Margaery?" She asked. "Why are you keeping secrets?" When they were just girls, Margaery had made Aobrey swear to never keep secrets from her. She had promised Aobrey the same in return, and that the secrets shared between them would never be betrayed.

Margaery gave a pained expression and took Aobrey's hand. Aobrey was beginning to worry and squeezed Margaery's in turn. Margaery offered another wan smile. "It is not a secret, little sister. You are not in trouble, I promise. Father has found a match for you."

Aobrey's heart jumped to the back of her throat. A match? "Who?"

Margaery shook her head then and began to lead her out of the maze. Margaery and Aobrey's had always talked about marriage as girls: who Mace would pick for them, who Olenna would reject and then repick for them, what they would wear, etcetera. Aobrey felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at Margaery's silence. Who was it then? Some fourth-born Tarly or Fossoway son? Or worse, was she being sent out of the Reach, to the unforgiving North or to the barren Westerlands to live out her days in that hideous rock?

"I think you better hear it from Father."

\---

"A Targaryen?"

It all made no sense. Margaery had brought Aobrey to their father's study, where she found that she would not only be facing her father, but her brother Loras and grandmother Olenna as well. Alerie Tyrell was suspiciously absent from this meeting, but it appeared that she had taken ill in protest to the arrangement. Margaery had shut the door behind them, and Mace had informed Aobrey that she would be marrying the youngest of the remaining Targaryens, all with his usual jovial manner.

"But the Targaryens are all dead." Aobrey said. "Killed in the taking of Kings Landing... Weren't they?"

"No no dear girl, the three children escaped." Mace informed her. "His Grace Maegon Targaryen has agreed to marry you to his brother Laerys, in exchange for thirty-thousand gold dragons and the support of the Reach when they return to Westeros and take back the Iron Throne."

"That's treason!" Aobrey exclaimed, looking around at the impassive faces of her family. They all knew.

"It is necessary for the survival of House Tyrell." Mace said, his cheery attitude gone. He seemed solemn now, perhaps even apologetic. "The Dragons will return to Westeros. When they do, I expect House Tyrell to live on and remain the Wardens of the South."

"Why me then? Why not Margaery?" Aobrey demanded, anger flaring up within her. "Why send them anyone? You could simply declare for them if they return and that would be that!"

"When." Mace corrected her. "That may have worked three hundred years ago, when Aegon the Conqueror let those who bent the knee keep their lands and titles. I don't know what kind of man Maegon is, but I won't risk my family because I doddered too long and wasted my opportunities."

It was odd to see him so dire. Aobrey felt a cold knot start to form in her stomach. "So there will be war?"

"Eventually."

"What do you mean eventually?"

Mace explained that the Targaryens were currently residing in Essos with a friend of the family. They had just enough money for living expenses, no army, and no true allies. Suddenly it made sense to Aobrey why she had been chosen: she was worthless. She had to be, for Mace Tyrell to send his own daughter to be offered up to some penniless disgraced house on a gamble that they might actually take Westeros back. That was why he was sending her and not Margaery, who would probably marry some dashing man of noble standing. She had never hated her sister more than in that moment.

"Will I be able to write letters?" She asked in quiet voice. Please, she begged the Mother, let her have this one small mercy.

Mace shook his head. "I'm sorry. We can't risk any contact with you. Once you arrive in Pentos, we won't see you again until the Targaryen's claim the Reach."

That confirmed it then. Aobrey's family was writing her off completely.

"We will be sending handmaidens with you. And a squire I trained myself." Loras said, apparently trying to comfort her. "You'll be in our thoughts every day, and-"

Aobrey smacked his hand away when he reached out to touch her. She would have none of it. Not Loras' pathetic comforts, not Margaery's sweet words, not even her father's almost convincing show of remorse. Aobrey stormed out of Mace's study with tears in her eyes, silently cursing her entire family and wondering what she had done to make them hate her so.

\---

Aobrey spent the rest of the afternoon sobbing in her chambers. She had chased all of her handmaidens away, and locked her door against intruders. No one followed after her when she left Mace's study.

She felt betrayed. This was far worse than a fourth-born Tarly or being sent to Casterly Rock. She knew nothing of Essos, except that they were slavers with strange gods and strange customs. The Targaryens were once a Westerosi house, but they were powerless and in hiding. What if they were found? Surely Aobrey would be assassinated with her new family, and the Tyrells would be soon to follow. None of it made any sense.

Aobrey's contemplation of her doom was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door. She made no move to answer it.

"Aobrey. Open the door, dear." Olenna, her grandmother. Olenna had been unusually silent as Mace was explaining her betrothal. Aobrey would have thought that Olenna of all people would have stopped Mace from pursuing such a foolish plan. She saw it as just another sign that her fate was sealed.

"Aobrey. Please."

Aobrey could not deny her grandmother, even if she had just allowed her to be tossed to the dogs (dragons? Aobrey thought the notion pretentious). She wiped her eyes and dragged herself out of bed, straightening her gown before unlocking the door. Olenna greeted her with a sad expression, and Aobrey did not miss her grandmother's eyes flicking up and down to take in her dishevelment in its entirety. 

"If your plan is to protest the engagement by looking like that, it just might work. We can't possibly send you to the Targaryens in this state."

"So you knew." Aobrey said blandly. "This was your plan too."

Olenna pushed past Aobrey into her chambers. Olenna never asked to enter anywhere. Highgarden was more hers than it was Mace's. She went to Aobrey's bed and sat down, before looking at Aobrey and patting a spot beside her.

Reluctantly, Aobrey obeyed.

Olenna sighed and reached out to take Aobrey's hand. "You know this isn't a punishment."

"You're casting me out." Aobrey snapped. "You're marrying me to a Targaryen! If anyone finds them, and me, they'll kill us!"

"I suppose they would. In fact, that would be a mercy, to just kill you with the others."

Aobrey felt tears begin to prick at her eyes again. Her situation truly was hopeless, she thought.

Olenna squeezed her hand gently, prompting Aobrey to look at her. "And if the Dragons return to Westeros, you become royalty."

"The Dragons are all dead, Grandmother." Aobrey said. "There's only three Targaryens left, with no money, no army, and no dragons. This is a waste."

Olenna gave Aobrey an even look, as if she was assessing her granddaughter. Aobrey had seen her grandmother do this to many people, but she had never caught it directed at her before this moment. She wondered how she was measuring up.

Olenna stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Aobrey's room had a pleasant view of the gardens - one of the many things she would come to miss about Highgarden. Sometimes at night she would sit by the window and watch for people taking evening strolls, occasionally catching glimpses of heated arguments or stolen moments of romance.

Olenna looked out the window, hands clasped in front of her. "I was to marry a Targaryen, you know."

Aobrey had never heard this before. She did not see how it was even possible; as far as she knew, that Targaryens had always wed brothers and sisters. Olenna took Aobrey's silence as a sign of confusion and continued speaking.

"Needless to say, it didn't work out. I was just as unhappy about the engagement as you are now. But, barring all other choices, I would have gone through with it for my house."

Aobrey sniffed once and wiped at her eyes. She knew she was being pathetic, but she felt so helpless that crying seemed the only thing she really could do. "Why me?" She whispered. "Why not Margaery?"

"We need Margaery here, in Highgarden. You are young enough to escape notice for a time, and you are lovely and well-tempered. You were the ideal choice." Olenna had returned to sit beside her on the bed once more. She took Aobrey's hand again and placed her own over it. "This does not mean you're worthless, Aobrey. It means you're worth a great deal."

Aobrey did not know what to say. It made her heart ache to hear it, but it did nothing to dislodge the fears that had taken root inside her head as she thought about her betrothal. At least maybe she would be missed.

"You're a Tyrell, Aobrey. You're strong, and you're clever. You'll have that boy wrapped around your finger the moment you step off the boat."

Aobrey suspected that was not true, and she suspected Olenna knew it. The Targaryens had a long history of madness and cruelty. The coin flip, as the story went - the gods' punishment for the Targaryens' deviant behavior. There was no telling whether the last remaining Targaryens were destined for greatness or madness.

"And what if he's a monster?" Aobrey countered.

"Even monsters have their soft spots." Olenna told her. "I didn't waste all these years teaching you and Margaery how to be capable women if I didn't think it would serve you both well one day. You find what he likes and you use it. Men are trainable, whether you use pretty words or what's between your legs."

It occurred to Aobrey that she was not quite sure she knew how to use either. Gods help her.

"And, if things go too horribly, you'll have this." Olenna produced a small glass vial containing a purple liquid. Aobrey recognized it as essence of nightshade. When she looked up and gave her grandmother a questioning look, Olenna only smiled.

"I would never expect my own granddaughter to suffer indefinitely."

Before Aobrey could question it, Olenna stood and kissed her forehead before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thanks for giving this a read! This is mostly just a silly little project I started for myself until a close friend convinced me to post it. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Passenger

Aobrey departed a month later in the company of a squire and two handmaidens. She had forgiven Margaery and Loras, but she still felt some resentment towards her father for the arrangement. Aobrey spent most of the following month with Margaery, who did her absolute best to be optimistic about the match. The optimism did not rub off on Aobrey, but she appreciated the effort.

Mace had arranged for a ship to take Aobrey and company from the Arbor to Essos. The thirty-thousand gold dragons were to be shipped along with Aobrey. She put her squire, Simon, in charge of the money. He was a tall, handsome lad with auburn hair and the Tarly brown eyes. It appeared she would not be escaping the clutches of a fourth-born Tarly after all.

"Do you think he's handsome?" Madysen asked. Madysen was one of Aobrey's handmaidens trusted to accompany her on the voyage. She was a Hightower, related by blood to Aobrey's mother. The two were distant cousins, making it easier to smuggle her away with the Hightowers' permission. She was a pretty, charming girl, with fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes.

Aobrey was fanning herself to chase away the heat. It was stuffy below deck, and they had been advised not to come above until they had set sail. Simon stood outside their cabin, keeping watch until it was time to move and to give the ladies some privacy. Aobrey wondered to herself if he could hear them outside the door. "I don't know. Margaery and I found some old portraits, and some of them certainly were."

"I'm sure he is. They wouldn't give you away to someone ugly." Lyanna piped up with a smile, trying to be encouraging. Lyanna was also a distant cousin of Aobrey's, related through the Redwynes. Aobrey had known Lyanna the longest of any of her handmaidens, and Aobrey considered Lyanna her dearest friend, next to Margaery. "Besides, he'll at least have pretty eyes."

"Don't they marry their siblings?" Madysen asked. "Why is he marrying you instead of his sister?"

Aobrey had wondered that herself, prompting her to ask Margaery before she left. She had refused to speak to her father until the morning they left for the Arbor. "There is only one sister. Traditionally, the oldest son would marry his sister."

"That explains why you didn't get the oldest one then..." Lyanna shot Madysen a look to shut her up. Madysen gave Aobrey an apologetic look. 

Aobrey dismissed it with a wave of her hand. She had never expected to marry a first-born. Once upon a time, she had hoped to be married to someone of note. But her dreams of being married into a Great House were not easily attained for a third-born. It was expected early on that Margaery would be given to a Great House, while Aobrey would be given to one of the Banner houses in the Reach. House Florent had been the most likely candidate, as they were loyal to House Baratheon. Aobrey could have been used to reaffirm House Florent's ties to the Reach. Secretly, she was glad it had not come to that.

"It doesn't matter which one I marry," Aobrey said with a bleak expression. "I'm still living in exile either way."

Before either handmaiden could think of something to say to lighten the mood, a cabin boy came down to tell them that they were setting sail. Despite her bleak attitude, Madysen and Lyanna managed to convince her to come above deck and take one last glimpse of the Arbor.

As they came above deck, Lyanna and Madysen went straight to the railing to watch as the ship pulled away from the harbor. Aobrey looked up at Simon, who was standing next to her. "Don't you want to say goodbye?"

Simon shrugged. He had never been officially knighted, so he could get away with minor breaches in etiquette like shrugging his shoulders. At least he could with Aobrey. "Can't say I do, my lady," he said. "I'm rather looking forward to Essos, myself."

"Are you? Why?"

"I get to get away from my father."

Aobrey smiled. Simon was pleasant company, she decided.

\---

The ship ride was not all together unpleasant. Madysen and Lyanna got sick, but luckily it was nothing more than a mild queasiness. Simon seemed to enjoy the rocking of the boat, as did Aobrey. They ate with the captain, a grizzled seaman named Haron. After some conversation, it was revealed that his full name was Haronno Dynin, a Braavosi man carrying wine from the Arbor for a wealthy merchant back home in Braavos.

After two weeks of sailing along the coast, Haron announced that they would be pulling into port in Dorne. Aobrey was told that they were free to leave the ship, but if they did not return by sunset that the ship would be leaving without them. Lyanna and Madysen looked particularly excited about Dorne, so Aobrey waved them off and told them to be safe. She felt it was safer for her to stay on the ship with Simon, where she could not get lost and risk misplacing the money her father had entrusted her with.

The day went by slowly and Aobrey was horribly bored. She stood above deck, leaning on the railing as she watched the crew move back and forth between the ship and the harbor town. Simon was below deck, watching over the money just in case someone snuck on board. Aobrey was just about to go below and join him for the company when she saw a figure speaking to the captain. He was devastatingly handsome, clean but rugged, like some romantic scoundrel in a song. His long black hair was tied back, and there was a small scar on his bottom lip. 

Aobrey watched closely as he offered the Haron a small pouch, which Aobrey could only guess contained a small number of silver coins. Haron nodded and took the pouch before stepping aside and allowing the man to board. The man must have seen her watching him, Aobrey guessed, for he approached her with a wary smile. "Awfully nice day out," he told her. Aobrey found it a bit hot for her tastes.

She smiled anyway. "It is."

She looked back out toward the harbor, though she could feel his eyes still on her. She refused to meet his eyes again, and stared stubbornly at some little Dornish girl trying to sell oysters to the busy sailors.

"My name's Jayce, by the way."

She gave in and turned to look at him. She gave her sweetest Tyrell smile, something Margaery had taught her when they were young. Always be friendly until they give you a reason not to be, she had told her. "A pleasure to meet you Jayce," she said. "My name is Aobrey." He offered his hand, and she took it. 

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Tyrell."

Aobrey felt cold as his lips touched her hand. How did he know? She forced herself to swallow down the lump in her throat and take a deep breath. The official story was that Aobrey was being married to a Braavosi nobleman to secure the Tyrell's connections with the Iron Bank. Their cover was not blown just yet. 

Jayce must have caught the look on her face, because he smiled. "Your necklace gave you away," he told her. "And, well, the green dress doesn't help."

Aobrey fingered the golden rose around her neck. It had been given to her on her fifteenth birthday, to match Margaery's. She thought for the first time about getting rid of it.

"You know my family's sigil then?"

"Of course, I've been to the Reach a few times," he said. "Reach women are the most beautiful in all the Seven Kingdoms."

Aobrey smiled a little. "I'm glad our maidens appeal to you so."

Jayce laughed then. "There are no maidens in the Reach, my lady." When Aobrey arched a brow at him, he quickly added: "Except for you, of course. I'm sure your maidenhood is completely untouched."

Aobrey blushed and looked away. What an odd man, she thought. Jayce got the hint then that he had overstepped and bid her farewell, heading below deck to find his own cabin. Aobrey cast a glance over her shoulder to watch him go. It occurred to her then that he had no luggage.

\---

Despite the long voyage to Braavos, Jayce made things tolerable. After some more conversation he had revealed that he was a solitary mercenary that traveled between Essos and Westeros looking for work, and to visit a paramour in Pentos. Simon did not care for Jayce much, but Lyanna and Madysen were infatuated. Aobrey hoped that she would not catch them sneaking out of the cabin in the middle of the night, though she decided if she did she would not stop them. She found she could not really blame them.

"And what are you doing going to Essos?" Jayce asked Aobrey one night, as they were all sitting and talking.

Aobrey hesitated. She was formulating an excuse when Madysen piped up on her behalf: "She's getting married!"

Jayce looked surprised, but did not ask any questions about the situation. Instead, he just raised his glass to her. "Well then, not a maiden for much longer. Good for you."

Simon did not seem amused, but Aobrey clinked her cup with Jayce. She needed wine if she was going to get through this conversation. "So, are you going to visit your lady friend while you're in Essos?" She asked.

Jayce nodded, finishing off his cup. "I always make sure to see her when I'm in town."

"That's romantic," Aobrey commented, sipping her own wine. 

"She's a good fuck, that's all."

Aobrey choked on her wine. Even in Highgarden, where sex was not kept a secret, no one used such language. Madysen and Lyanna were scarlet, and Simon looked like he was ready to challenge Jayce to an honor duel. Jayce seemed amused by the whole thing.

Conversation was awkward after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd go ahead and post the second chapter tonight as well. Enjoy!


	3. Arrival

The ship arrived safely in Braavos after several weeks at sea. As they were getting ready to leave the ship, Haron stopped Aobrey and told her where to find a carriage to Pentos. So the captain was in on it after all, Aobrey thought. She thanked him with a gold piece and continued on her way to meet up with Simon and her handmaidens. 

It was not hard to find the carriages with Haron's instructions. Mace had told Aobrey who to ask for once she arrived in Pentos: a magister named Illyrio, currently hosting the three remaining Targaryens. Just as Simon was trying to flag down a carriage, Aobrey felt a rough hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Jayce behind her.

"Your man'll never catch a carriage that way," he told her, nodding in Simon's direction. "Let me get one, and we'll take it together."

Aobrey hesitated, but reluctantly agreed. When Simon gave her a disapproving look she asked if he knew a better way to get to Pentos, which he did not.

The ride to Pentos took most of the day. The carriage was spacious, but with three ladies and two men, one in full armor, it was a bit cramped. Madysen and Lyanna did their best to keep conversation going, but Aobrey was sick with anxiety for most of the trip. She felt she was approaching some ravenous beast, a dragon perhaps, waiting to swallow her whole. Or burn her alive. The history books said that that was a favorite of the Targaryens.

Aobrey was sitting between Lyanna and Madysen with her hands folded in her lap. Simon was sitting beside Jayce, and looking none too happy about the arrangement. When conversation fell away completely, Jayce spoke up.

"You don't look too excited for a girl about to meet her betrothed," he commented. She looked up to see him searching her face for some kind of answer. "Who is he, anyway?"

Aobrey forced a polite smile. "You wouldn't know him."

Jayce nodded. "Fair enough, my lady. Fair enough."

\---

The driver dropped Jayce off in the city square. He wished them the best before disappearing into the crowd. Lyanna and Madysen watched him go with dreamy expressions, Madysen in particular.

"Good riddance," Simon huffed under his breath.

The driver continued on and took them to the address Aobrey had been told to give him. Simon tipped the man and the four of them exited the carriage, with Simon still carrying the chest. 

The manse was beautiful, its architecture far different than anything Aobrey had seen in Westeros. The steps up to the entryway were polished marble, and the open, airy design made it look barely capable of standing up. Aobrey wondered if just one pillar was smashed, would the whole house collapse?

The entryway was guarded by two stern looking men, dark of skin, in black leather helmets and armor. They stood straight and stared straight ahead. Both men held spears in their right hands. Guards, Aobrey concluded. Even the guards looked nothing like they did in Westeros.

Aobrey approached them, coming to the realization she had no one to announce her. She curtsied, as per protocol, before looking the right one in the eye.

"I am Aobrey of the Westerosi House Tyrell," she said. "I have been requested by Magister Illyrio."

Their faces were impassive. Did they understand the common tongue? She was about to try again when a small man appeared in the entryway. He was shorter than Aobrey, with grey wiry hair and a bit of a belly. His beard was tied with beads, and he was dressed in bright orange robes with gold patterns. He smiled kindly at her as he approached.

"Forgive them, my lady. The Unsullied are not known for their gracious greetings." He bowed from the waist and kissed her hand, once offered. "My name is Illyrio, Pentoshi Magister and master of this house."

Aobrey curtsied again. "It's a pleasure, Magister Illyrio."

Illyrio paid no mind to the handmaidens or to Simon. He glanced several times between the chest that Simon held and Aobrey before smiling and clapping his hands. "Come! You've had a long day, I'm sure. Please, allow my servants to escort you to the baths."

A bath sounded nice. Madysen looked relieved at the prospect of getting to wash the weeks' worth of sea salt off, but Lyanna looked less enthused. As Illyrio disappeared to another part of the house and the servants walked them to the baths, Lyanna lightly touched Aobrey's arm.

"Shouldn't you meet with the Targaryens first?" She asked. "To make sure they're... Actually here?"

Aobrey frowned in thought. Lyanna was right. There was no guarantee aside from the fact that they had been sent here by Mace that the Targaryens were in Illyrio's manse. But what choice did they have? They were guests in another's home, and as such were in no place to make demands.

"We don't have a choice," she whispered back to Lyanna. "But be careful. If anything looks off, tell me." She knew that Lyanna was far more perceptive than she was.

"Of course, Aobrey." She offered a reassuring smile before both she and Madysen were escorted off to the servants' baths. Simon chose to stay with Aobrey, waiting just outside the door as she was taken to the main bath chamber. It was beautiful, with an open balcony looking over the sea. It was late afternoon, with the sun dipping in the sky. The room itself was the same polished marble as the outside, though in the bathing chamber it had a pinkish tinge. A female servant helped Aobrey undress and another ran the bath. Aobrey stood obediently as the woman removed her dress, but when she reached to unclasp the gold rose necklace, Aobrey gently refused. It was her last token of home, and she would not part with it. Standing naked Aobrey shivered, crossing her arms in front of her as the cool sea air blew in.

Luckily the bath was hot. Aobrey shivered again as she stepped into the bath, the water so hot it made her skin prick. The servants gave her floral scented soaps to wash with, and as she scrubbed the remnants of the voyage off of her skin she attempted to make conversation. To her relief, the servants spoke common. Aobrey asked about the Targaryens, hoping they could give her some solid confirmation that that were here.

"Prince Maegon and Prince Laerys are out in the city. Princess Helaena was out with them, but she returned early and should be here in the manse, I believe," the servant told her. Aobrey relaxed a little. The servant mentioned each of them by name and their activities, making her seem a bit more trustworthy.

Aobrey asked her about Pentos. How was it governed? What did the title 'Magister' mean? We're the stories about Dothraki coming through Pentos to trade true? The conversation put Aobrey at ease enough to ask about the Targaryens. How long had they been staying with Illyrio? How long did they plan to continue staying? Did the people of Pentos know that there were three royal fugitives in the city?

Once conversation winded down, Aobrey stepped out of the bath. She realized her bags had been taken somewhere out of reach, and she asked the servants about her clothes. The one who had carried most of the conversation assured her that her things had been taken to her room within the manse.

"Princess Helaena brought this for you to wear, when you arrived," the servant told her. She presented Aobrey with a dress of sheer silk the color of the sky. Aobrey was speechless. She reached out to touch the fabric and it felt like water in her hands.

"It's beautiful..." She murmured. The closer she looked at it, she saw it had swirling silver patterns in the fabric. She had owned beautiful dresses before, but there was nothing like this in the Reach. Aobrey was delighted, and was eager to thank her new sister for the beautiful gift.

The servant helped Aobrey into the new dress. She liked the feel of it on her skin; it was soft and comfortable. It left much of her back exposed, which was not so unusual in Highgarden, though Aobrey did not realize how sheer the fabric was until she saw herself in the mirror.

"Is this decent?" She asked the servant. "Perhaps I should find something to wear under it?"

The servant only laughed, assuring her that it was meant to be worn as she had it now. Aobrey looked again in the mirror. She was to be presented to her betrothed like this? She kept her protests to herself, allowing the servant to do her hair. This was not her culture, she remembered. The Targaryen siblings had been living in Pentos for most of their lives. Perhaps parading with everything on display was considered normal to them?

When Aobrey was considered presentable by the servants, she was escorted out of the baths and into the what she assumed was the main hall. Illyrio was waiting for her there. He smiled at her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious and over-exposed. She fought the urge to cover her breasts with her hands and instead smiled back. She curtsied and thanked him once again for his hospitality. 

"It is nothing, my dear. Come, the princes have returned and are eager to meet you."

\---

Simon followed behind Aobrey, carrying the chest of gold. He had not taken leave yet to get his own bath, even at Aobrey's insistence. He assured Aobrey he would tend to his own needs after this first meeting with the Targaryens.

Illyrio walked Aobrey across the manse, to a room obscured by a heavy wooden door. She could hear talking on the other side, and a woman laughing. Illyrio knocked once before pushing open the door and entering the room. Aobrey followed behind him, and Simon in turn. Illyrio stepped aside to introduce her, and Aobrey felt her breath catch.

She did not realize how unprepared she was for this moment. She must have been expecting imposters, she thought, as she would not be so surprised otherwise. They looked just like the portraits she had seen in Westeros: silver-gold hair, violet eyes, and the regal bearings of royalty. Even in exile, they looked no less like the princes and princess that they were. It all felt like a hazy dream to Aobrey before, sailing to a foreign land to marry a disgraced prince from a fallen dynasty. Reality struck Aobrey painfully hard; she was in the presence of a legendary family that had ruled the Seven Kingdoms for three hundred years.

One of the men was sitting in an armchair, elbows seated on either armrest with his fingers steepled in front of him. He was dressed in the Targaryen colors of red and black, with his wavy silver hair swept back. The woman was laying longways on a chaise lounge, propped on one elbow and wearing a scandalously low-cut dress of coral-colored silk. It was just as sheer as Aobrey's, and held together with golden clasps. She was occupied with what lay in her lap: a heavy-looking stone, bright red with jagged protrusions covering its surface. She traced the protrusions with her finger, barely giving Aobrey a disinterested glance. The other man was sitting opposite his brother, soft and unassuming in a lavender Pentoshi tunic. He was leaning to one side of his chair, holding a glass of wine with his free hand while the other propped him him up. They all regarded Aobrey with cold indifference.

"My lady," Illyrio began, "you are standing in the presence of Maegon of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He gestured to the man in red and black as he spoke. While grateful for the hint, Aobrey figured she could have guessed.

Aobrey knelt before Maegon as Illyrio introduced her. "Your Grace, this is Lady Aobrey of House Tyrell."

Aobrey did not know the appropriate length of time for kneeling in front of a king. Rather than risk getting up too soon and insulting him, she stayed put until Maegon told her to rise. She stood then, feeling awkward as she looked down at the supposed king. What now?

Maegon was watching her with a critical expression. After a brief period of silence Maegon glanced at Simon, who was standing close behind Aobrey. "What is it your man is carrying?"

"Thirty thousand gold dragons, Your Grace. As my father promised." Aobrey waved her hand at Simon, signaling him to step forward and place the chest at Maegon's feet. Simon did so in silence, returning to his position behind Aobrey once he had opened the chest and presented the gold to Maegon. 

Maegon's expression betrayed nothing. Aobrey searched his face for any hint of approval and found it lacking. She felt panic begin to rise.

Maegon bent slightly to take one gold coin between forefinger and thumb. He gave it an appraising look before turning his attention back to Aobrey. "Your father promised us more than just coin, Lady Tyrell."

Aobrey's mind raced, grasping for something to say to Maegon's unspoken question.

"Upon returning to Westeros, you will have the full backing of the Reach and of House Tyrell."

Maegon said nothing, but he nodded at her. She felt relief rush through her.

"You may leave us, Illyrio. Thank you for bringing her." Illyrio bowed his head and muttered 'Your Grace' before turning and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Silence stretched long after the door clicked shut. Aobrey wanted to look anywhere but at the three Targaryens, but she remembered what Margaery had taught her long ago about eye contact. She kept her eyes fixed on Maegon's face, trying to ignore the look in his eyes as he appraised her.

"Take off the dress."

The words rattled in Aobrey's mind, stalling her from making sense of them. When the meaning finally clicked into place, Aobrey was certain she had misheard.

"I... I'm sorry, Your Grace?"

"The dress," he said blandly. "Take it off."

Aobrey flushed, horrified at the suggestion, no, the demand. She looked helplessly at the other two in hopes that one of them would say something to overrule their brother. The woman was not even looking at Aobrey, eyes fixed on the red stone she was holding. The other man was watching her with something like detached curiosity. She would get no help from him.

"Your king has given you a command," Maegon said, a cool edge in his voice. "Take off the dress, or I will have your guard tear it off."

Aobrey could hear Simon move behind her. She prayed silently to all seven gods that he was not reaching for his sword. After the brief rustle of movement, Simon was still, and Aobrey guessed he was waiting for her next move. She locked eyes with Maegon, hot anger flaring up inside her. He was no king, she wanted to say. Certainly no king of hers.

But she was too afraid to say it.

With shaky hands, she undid the first clasp. She prayed again, just to the Maiden this time, that someone would stop it. That Maegon would get bored and send her out. That perhaps they would all start laughing and tell her it was all a joke. By the time she made it to the final clasp, she knew her prayer would go unanswered.

She shed the dress with little ceremony, the blue silk pooling around her feet. She folded her hands in front of her, attempting to cover what little of herself that she could, but Maegon snapped at her to place them at her sides. Too afraid to look at Maegon, she risked a glance at the other two.

The woman was now looking at Aobrey, violet eyes glinting with cold amusement. "Tits are small," she hummed, sounding disappointed. The other man was still sitting in his chair, his eyes roamed up and down Aobrey's form. He sipped his wine with a thoughtful expression, choosing not to address his sister's comment.

Naked and trembling, Aobrey stared at the floor. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill over and make her humiliation complete. Her rose necklace weighed heavy on her neck, the only thing she was still wearing and the only proof that she was something more than a common whore. 

"What do you think, brother?" Maegon asked, looking away from Aobrey to address his younger brother. "She's yours."

Yours. Aobrey fought through her maelstrom of emotions to find meaning in the word. A new rush of humiliation hit her when she remembered: the younger man was Laerys Targaryen. The man who had been sitting idly and judging her like a piece of meat was her betrothed.

Laerys stood then and set down his glass of wine. He approached Aobrey and began to circle her. Was this what dragons would do, she wondered. Did dragons circle and toy with their prey, before dooming them to a fiery death? She jumped when she felt him lightly touch her, soft fingers tracing down her spine, and she couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

Silently she cried, fearing what would come next. Would he rape her here, under the watchful eye of his brother and sister? Would he find her dissatisfactory and send her back to Highgarden, ruined and shamed?

Nothing came next. That faint touch along her spine was all she felt before he came into view again, settling back into his chair. "She's pretty."

Maegon seemed pleased enough. He looked over his shoulder at his sister, who was now pouting for some reason Aobrey could not fathom.

"I told you he would like her," Maegon said simply. The woman huffed and met her brother's eyes, something unspoken passing between them.

"We'll see," she said, reaching over and taking Laerys' glass of wine. She took a sip and set it back down.

Maegon looked back at Aobrey. "You may go, Lady Tyrell. It appears your father has indeed kept all his promises."

Aobrey felt her knees go weak. Suddenly she heard clinking behind her and something rough and heavy being draped over her shoulders. With new mortification, she remembered that Simon had been in the room the entire time. Before she could burst into tears a second time, Simon firmly gripped her shoulders and steered her out of the room. She clutched the cloak tightly and tugged it close around her.

Simon slammed the door behind them as drove her out of the room. "My lady, I-"

Aobrey turned to look up at him then, tear-stained face shutting him up instantly. She could see his own embarrassment and rage, and yet it did nothing to make her feel better.

"Fucking mad, all of them," he growled. "I failed you, my lady. I should have-"

Aobrey did not want to hear it. She collapsed against him, ignoring his hard and clunky armor. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried. Here, in this strange house with these strange and terrifying people, she was safe as long as she had Simon. She would always have Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I have no idea how long it takes to get to Pentos from Braavos.
> 
> Had a lot of fun writing this one, came out longer than expected.


	4. A Deal, Sealed

Lyanna and Madysen were waiting for Aobrey in the bedchamber that Illyrio had assigned to her. When Simon walked her in, naked and in tears with Simon's cloak wrapped around her, they were horrified. Aobrey would not speak of what had happened, but Simon could not be held back.

"Fucking mad," he told them, as Lyanna bid Aobrey to sit down and Madysen rushed to get her nightgown. He told them what had happened, embellished with a number of curses that no one would ever have expected from Simon. "Mad cunts... She's supposed to be his wife for the gods' sake! He's just like his father, thinking he can take whatever he wants without-"

"Simon," Aobrey snapped. "Keep that to yourself." There was no telling who was listening, and it was dangerous to be comparing Laerys to the Mad King. They could not afford for someone to run to the Targaryens crying about treasonous plots.

Sensing the new tension in the room, Lyanna gently asked Simon to step outside so that Aobrey could get dressed. Simon seemed reluctant to leave, but out of respect he left to guard the door. Aobrey stood and shrugged off Simon's cloak, standing bare once more. But this was a different type of bareness. She felt safe with Lyanna and Madysen.

As Madysen untied some of the delicate laces on her nightgown, Lyanna checked Aobrey for bruises or anything of the like. "Did he hurt you?" She asked.

Aobrey shook her head. "No. He barely touched me."

"But he touched you!" Madysen exclaimed. "You should write to your father! This is unacceptable! You are a lady of House Tyrell!"

Lyanna shushed her. "I can't," Aobrey said, holding her arms up for Madysen as she dressed Aobrey for the night. "We can't send any letters." Besides, she doubted Mace would do anything. This marriage had to be sustained at all costs. He would not break it for anything less than maiming, Aobrey thought.

Madysen tied up her nightgown while Lyanna turned down the blankets on the bed for her. They would sleep in the servants' chambers with the princess' handmaidens. Once everything was ready, Aobrey hesitated before sending them off.

Noting her discomfort, Lyanna took her hand. "Simon will stand outside the door." She said, giving Aobrey's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Aobrey still did not want them to go. They were all she had in this strange house. Still, she put on a brave face and bid them goodnight. Aobrey crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, dreading what the next day would bring. It would be quite awhile before she fell asleep that night.

\---

Aobrey was roused from her sleep by a gentle knocking. It was morning, as evident by the gentle rays of sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Before Aobrey could get up and answer the door, it was pushed open to reveal one of Illyrio's or the Targaryens' own servants. The woman bowed before speaking: "King Maegon requests your presence at breakfast, my lady."

Requests. Aobrey almost rolled her eyes. "I will be there as soon as I am dressed."

The woman stepped to enter the room. "What are you doing?" Aobrey demanded, stopping the woman cold.

"I am to help you dress, my lady? For breakfast."

"No, you will not," Aobrey snapped. "Fetch my own handmaidens and send them to me." She would have no more strangers touching her if she could help it. And where was Simon? How did she manage to get in here without Simon stopping her?

"I..." The woman hesitated, unsure of whose orders to follow. "...yes, my lady."

She turned then and disappeared, closing the door behind her. Aobrey waited for a minute before creeping to the door and slowly pushing it open to look for Simon. She glanced down both ends of the hall, and Simon was nowhere in sight. That was disconcerting.

Aobrey closed the door gently and took this chance to inspect her chambers, being too shaken up the previous night to appreciate them. It was beautifully decorated, even for a guest's chambers. Rugs embroidered with roses kept bare feet from touching the cold marble floor. The fire place held the dying flames of the evening's fire. The bed was softer than her own in Highgarden, made up in green and gold. Aobrey guessed it was an attempt to either recognize her House or make her feel at home. Clearly they did not know anything, she thought bitterly, for her bed at home was made up in lavender.

Chiding herself for being so unfair - clearly, they had tried - she moved to inspect the chest at the foot of her bed. It was an odd, gaudy thing, inlaid with cheap crystals and carved with a strange scene Aobrey could only guess was human sacrifice. She had heard once that they sacrificed princes in Pentos if the harvests were poor.

Inside the chest were several dresses: four of her own and five more in a Pentoshi style. Her heart ached. Why did they show her such kindness, only to humiliate her? Aobrey was startled from her thoughts by a knock at the door. She rushed to it, relieved to see Lyanna and Madysen. "Do either of you know where Simon is?" She asked as she ushered them in.

Lyanna and Madysen both looked at each other, concern clear on their faces. "No, my lady."

Aobrey forced down the sick feeling in her gut and simply nodded. "Oh..."

They seemed at a loss for what to say. Madysen took the initiative in trying to find Aobrey something to wear for the day. Aobrey felt her choice in attire was rather inconsequential at this point, but when she saw Madysen pulling out one of the Pentoshi dresses she gently stopped her.

"Something from home, please."

It took Madysen a good second to process, but her eyes lit up with understanding and she put the Pentoshi dress away. What she grabbed next was green and gold, and Aobrey nodded approvingly.

\---

Aobrey went alone to the dining room. She kept her head held high, feeling newly empowered in the colors of her house. She hoped it insulted them.

When the servant pushed open the door to allow her in, Aobrey was surprised to see that Simon was there. Illyrio was sitting at the head of the table. Maegon and Laerys were sitting along the side facing the door, with an empty chair between them. Simon was standing with his back to the door, facing Maegon. Aobrey's appearance had interrupted whatever conversation they had been having, as Maegon's attention shifted to her.

"Lady Tyrell. Good Morning."

Aobrey curtsied. "Good morning Your Grace." She ignored Laerys completely. "May I ask what my guard is doing here?"

"We were just having a conversation," Maegon said, taking his knife and beginning to cut into what looked like egg. "He is dismissed."

Aobrey glanced over at Simon. He had bathed, and was dressed in some awkward Pentoshi clothing that did not suit him. He looked out of his element, a wary animal captured for the amusement of his captors. Simon looked back at her, silently asking with his eyes whether he should stay or go. Aobrey nodded slightly and dismissed him.

As Simon left, a servant stepped forward and pulled a chair out for Aobrey. She thought briefly of being defiant and choosing her own seat. However, such childish fantasies were quickly dismissed and she took the appointed seat. It appeared to her that her small rebellion with the dress had fallen flat, and she was hesitant to push her limits and risk provoking them. It was easy to be petty in the privacy of her own mind, but it seemed her defiant thoughts withered when faced with the reality of the Targaryens sitting in front of her.

Aobrey took the seat offered to her, sitting opposite of Maegon. Illyrio asked if she had slept comfortably, to which she replied in the affirmative. She wondered if he knew what had happened once he left the room.

"Your marriage to Laerys will be in a fortnight," Maegon informed her. "Your father is generous in his offer. We will accept his proposal."

Aobrey bowed her head. "Thank you Your Grace. It is an honor."

"We will send word to your father that you have arrived safely. The wedding will be held here, and we are sending for a Septon to perform the ceremony. Helaena will assist you in finding a dress and whatever else you will need." He waved his hand, as if those other matters were beneath his personal concern.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She briefly wondered if she would be permitted to write to her family and send it along with the Targaryens' own message, if she asked. She did not ask.

'Don't ask questions you already know the answer too,' her grandmother had taught her. 'It's unbecoming.'

"We receive news from Westeros frequently," Maegon continued. "I expect you will be eager to hear news of the Reach and your family. As I'm sure they will be eager to hear of you. Perhaps the next letter I send will tell Lord Tyrell of his grandchild-"

" _Skorkydos bōsa gaomagon ao kȳvanon naejot jagon va, lēkia?_ " Laerys asked suddenly. He gave his brother a cold look as he continued to speak. " _Ao ȳdragon tolī olvie. Issa naejot sagon issa ābrazȳrys, se ry ziry kostagon rȳbagon iksis ao._ "

Aobrey did not recognize the language. In her brief time in Essos, she had heard so many different languages that they all seemed to run together. She looked at Laerys then, for the first time since taking her seat. His attention was fixed on Maegon.

Maegon arched a brow at his younger brother. Aobrey felt uncomfortable, as if there was a storm brewing just beneath the surface of Maegon's calm facade. Or a dragon stirring.

" _Gaomagon daor sagon iā riña. Lo ao jaelagon naejot sagon ryptan, ȳdragon,_ " Maegon told him.  
" _Se gaomagon daor ruaragon inkot īlva ēngos. Lo ao jaelagon naejot ánghowa nyke gō aōha ābra, ivestragī zȳhon rȳbagon ziry. Daor ābra jāhor qogralbar iā nākostōbā riña._ "

Laerys bristled at what his brother had told him. Aobrey felt even more helpless now. She was reminded of the tournaments in Highgarden when she was a young girl. At her first tourney, she had been inconsolable, crying because she could not understand why her father's knights were fighting. Clearly, she thought, she had not grown a bit since that day.

In contrast, Maegon seemed at ease. He stared Laerys down, silently challenging him to say anything else. When he did not, Maegon made a small "hm" sound and sipped some wine out of a simple glass.

"Now now, not this early," a female voice chimed in.

Aobrey looked up, but Laerys and Maegon made no move to acknowledge her. It was the princess, seemingly just roused from sleep. Her hair was loose and undone, and she appeared to still be in her nightgown. Aobrey found herself distracted by the woman's full-breasted figure; she could have come out naked for all the good her nightgown did her.

Aobrey tore her eyes away from the princess and settled on something safer, yet equally disconcerting: the red stone Aobrey had seen the princess holding the night before. The princess had carried it out to breakfast with her.

"Barely dawn and you're already at each other's throats," she sighed, bending to kiss Laerys' temple. "You two are so charming I can hardly stand it."

"Closer to noon, actually," Laerys told her. He did not seem soothed by the presence of his sister. "You slept through the better part of the morning, when we were on our best behavior."

Maegon also seemed to be physically tired in her presence. "Helaena, sit down."

Helaena turned to Maegon then, tipping his chin up with her right hand and kissing him fully on the lips. Aobrey was scandalized. She knew the Targaryens practiced incest for generations, but to see it firsthand was unnerving. Instead she focused on the silver bracelet Helaena was wearing: a thin chain with three small rubies, too big for her slim wrist by the way it hung.

Maegon's expression did not change. Helaena pouted and took her seat, setting the stone comfortably in her lap. She reached for a roll of bread and stopped short when she saw Aobrey. For a long moment, she stared at her.

"...That dress is hideous," she said finally, choosing her bread and bringing it to her plate. "We gave you nice things to wear. Why aren't you wearing them?"

Aobrey was caught off guard by the question. She knew why, of course. But the subtlety of her choice in clothing was meant to insult Maegon and Laerys, subtly. Subtlety was lost on Helaena, who now challenged Aobrey's decision directly. She had not been ready.

"I... I'm sorry. The fashions of Pentos are lost on me, I'm afraid. They were all beautiful, and I was unsure what was appropriate to wear to breakfast. I did not want to to appear underdressed or overdressed, so I chose something familiar to me. I apologize if I have offended you."

It was a womanly excuse. Maegon and Laerys appeared to accept it without question, but Aobrey could see that Helaena did not. Her grandmother's tricks could not be played on someone like Helaena. She saw right through them.

"Stop harassing her, Helaena," Laerys spoke up. "She isn't yours to torment."

"Ah yes, my mistake," Helaena shrugged her shoulders and poured herself a glass of wine. "That pleasure is distinctly yours."

"That's enough, both of you," Maegon snapped. Aobrey found it unfair; despite her distaste for Laerys, he had only been sticking up for her. She was trying to piece it all together, how they truly were in the day-to-day. Know your enemy, and all that. But she was given nothing, and what she saw only gave her more questions than answers.

Laerys fell silent, but Helaena could not be controlled. "After breakfast we will dispose of your hideous Westerosi rags and I will show you what is appropriate."

Laerys and Maegon both turned to Aobrey, seemingly eager to see what her reaction would be. There was no room for argument here. "I would... Greatly appreciate that, Princess," Aobrey forced herself to say as her heart sank. 

Helaena seemed satisfied and left her alone after that. She turned her chatter towards Maegon, who indulged her as one would a small child or an elderly relative. Laerys did not say much at all, but Aobrey caught him stealing glances at her from time to time. In truth, Aobrey had been doing the same. Of all three of the Targaryen siblings, Laerys was of the most interest to her. Appropriately so, she justified to herself - he was to be her husband. And yet, when they met each other's eyes, panic spiked through her, along with another feeling that she could not quite name.

A minute later, Laerys stood and excused himself from the table. Helaena paid him no mind, but Maegon shot him a questioning glance. Laerys offered no explanation.

"He's going whoring," Helaena said bluntly, taking a loud bite out of the apple she was holding. 

"Helaena that's wildly inappropriate," Maegon chastised, though he looked mildly irritated at best. There was no danger of losing the alliance, despite the insult of Laerys' supposed activities. Not while Aobrey was kept close and forbidden to write.

Aobrey had completely lost her appetite. She just wanted to be away from her new family. Illyrio cleared his throat and tried to lighten the mood with a new topic of conversation, but the mood at the table was unshakable.

\---

After breakfast, Helaena stood and demanded that Aobrey follow her to get properly dressed. She handed off the red stone to Maegon, telling him to 'keep it with his until she was done'. After that she snapped her fingers at Aobrey to follow. Maegon did not even spare her a glance, but Illyrio gave her a sympathetic look.

When they were out of the dining room, Helaena grabbed Aobrey's hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing tightly. "You'll be one of us soon," she murmured, as if it were a secret. "Of course, you'll never be a true Targaryen. But by the end you'll come close enough."

Aobrey did not want to speculate on what the "end" might be, or how Helaena intended to make her more of a Targaryen. She kept her eyes fixed ahead of her. She could feel the stones of Helaena's bracelet brushing against her own hand, and it bothered her. "I would like that, princess."

Helaena sneered at her. "You're lying, I know it. And if you meant it you'd be stupid."

Aobrey remembered what had landed the three Targaryen children here: the war, the usurpation of their throne, the deaths of their father and brother. Yes, she thought, stupid indeed.

"But we're going to make a deal, you and I," Helaena said. Her tone made a chill crawl its way down Aobrey's spine.

"A deal, princess?"

"You're never going to lie to me again. Do you understand? If you do I'll slice apart your cunt and then your throat."

Aobrey felt sick as the words sunk in. "Yes, princess."

"And in return I will never lie to you." Helaena released Aobrey's hand and linked their arms together as the walked. "We will seal it before we fix your wardrobe."

Aobrey took the risk of looking Helaena in the eyes. "Seal it, princess?"

"As they did in Old Valyria," Helaena said, meeting Aobrey's gaze with an unsettling smile curving her lips.

"With fire and blood."

\---

Some servants had relit the fire in Aobrey's room. Helaena took a candle off of Aobrey's vanity and demanded that Aobrey find a sewing needle. After some half-hearted searching Aobrey found one, but instead of giving it to Helaena she ignored it.

"I can't find one, princess," Aobrey lied. "I was never good at sewing, and it doesn't seem the servants left me any needles." The promise she had made Helaena flitted across her mind, but she could not bring herself to feel any guilt.

"Useless," Helaena said blandly. "We'll have to make due without then-" Helaena was interrupted by the sound of clinking metal falling to the floor. "Ah, shit."

Aobrey turned in time to see Helaena reaching into the fireplace. Aobrey ran to her, but to her horror Helaena was already up to her forearm in the flames. She truly was mad!

"Princess! Princess you can't!" Without thinking Aobrey grabbed Helaena's shoulders and tried to pull her back. Helaena stood, but was in no rush and she looked rather annoyed.

"What are you wailing about?" She demanded, sliding the bracelet back onto her unharmed wrist. The entirety of her arm had been untouched by the fire, so it seemed. Aobrey blinked and for the second time she failed to think and reached out to touch Helaena's arm.

"I... but, the fire..." She felt like her mind was swimming. It seemed so real... She wondered if after everything that had happened she was the one going mad.

"Light this," Helaena said, thrusting the candle at Aobrey. She pushed past her and cleared off the vanity, placing the candleholder in the center. With trembling hands, Aobrey knelt by the fire and lit the candle. Madness, she thought. The whole manse reeked of it.

She stood and brought the candle to Helaena, who barked at her to put it in the candle holder. After she did as she was told, Helaena held out her hand. Aobrey hesitated but placed her hand in Helaena's own.

Helaena brought Aobrey's index finger to her lips before biting the tip, hard enough to break the skin. Aobrey cried out in shock and instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Helaena gripped her tight.

"Swear to me that you will never lie to me, and then give your blood to the flame," she said. Her tone was solemn, but her eyes were sharp. Aobrey looked away, but Helaena squeezed her hand, hard. 

"Ah! Alright, I... I swear. I will never lie to you."

Helaena released her. "Good. Now seal it."

Aobrey was not quite sure what that meant. Did she want her to burn herself? Cautiously Aobrey held her injured finger over the candle. When no new blood welled up, she squeezed the bite between her thumb and middle finger. Crimson dripped onto the candle, barely missing the wick and dripping down the side. Aobrey risked a glance at Helaena. It seemed the princess approved.

Helaena bit her own finger without even flinching. "And I swear to you that I shall never lie to you," she said, mimicking Aobrey's actions over the candle. Then she blew it out and sucked the rest of the blood off of her finger.

"Good, now that that's taken care of..." She went straight for the chest holding Aobrey's dresses. Seeing there was no stopping her, Aobrey stepped off to the side to rinse the blood off of her hand.

"Is this honestly how you dress in Westeros?" She asked, incredulous. She was holding up one of Aobrey's favorites: a dusky purple gown embroidered with silver flowers. "This is so... awful."

"Fashion varies in all of the Seven Kingdoms," Aobrey said quietly. "That style is popular in Highgarden."

"Well it's awful." She tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor. She did the same with all of Aobrey's gowns from Westeros, until she got to one that Aobrey desperately wanted to keep. It was teal and gold satin, stitched with golden roses. It reminded her of home.

"Please, Princess. Let me keep just this one," she begged, reaching for it as if it could save her from this place. 

Helaena pulled it away from her, but her face was contemplative. "... I suppose it can't hurt."

She handed the dress back to her but kicked the other discarded ones into a pile. "I'll have the slaves burn these."

Aobrey blinked. "Slaves?"

"Yes, of course. Don't you know anything?"

Aobrey felt sick. Slaves... slavery had been outlawed in Westeros for hundreds of years. She wondered if the Targaryens knew that, or if they would receive a rude awakening when they returned.

"Now take off that one and toss it in the pile. I'm going to fix you," Helaena commanded, gesturing to what she was wearing now.

Aobrey hesitated briefly, but another sharp look from Helaena had her stripping where she stood. She was embarrassed, but it was tempered by the fact that Helaena had already seen her naked once before, and Aobrey had undressed in front of many women in back home in Highgarden. Margaery had always assured her there was nothing to be shy about with another women; they all had the same parts. It took Aobrey many years before she finally caught on that Margaery might have meant more than just undressing.

Helaena had her back turned to her as she chose one of the Pentoshi dresses. "All of it. You don't wear corsets or slips under these."

Aobrey was not eager to be naked in front of her again, but did as she was told. She brought her hands around to cover her groin as she stood naked and waiting. Helaena turned look at her over her shoulder, tapping her chin in thought. "Hm."

Two heartbeats later she pulled out a dress the color of the sunset sky. It was sheer, just as everything else was, but it was just as beautiful. Helaena thrust it at Aobrey. "Put this on."

Aobrey struggled with the folds and drapes of the dress. Helaena snapped at her for her supposed incompetence, but helped her into it anyway. Aobrey liked this one much more than the blue one, she decided. The colors helped hide the fact that it was almost entirely see-through.

"Good," Helaena said. "Much better. Now go present yourself to my brother. He should be back by now."

Aobrey froze. Surely she could not mean for her to go to Laerys alone? Without announcement or a chaperone?

"Well don't just stare at me. Go." Helaena waved her hand.

"But-"

"I believe I was clear," she snapped. "Do not make me repeat myself."

Aobrey was still too afraid of Helaena to argue. She took a shaky breath and left the room, eager to be away from the princess. It did not occur to her until she was already down the hall that she had no idea where Laerys' room was.

What a fool I am, she thought. She wandered about regardless, finding wandering preferable to going back to Helaena. Aobrey was not aware of how much time passed before she found a servant - _slave_ , she reminded herself - and asked where Laerys' chambers were. The slave gave her vague directions before returning to his task.

She figured he was fearful of being punished for being caught idle. Whether or not that was true, Aobrey went on her way, not wanting to bother him any further.

\---

It took her an embarrassingly long amount of time, but Aobrey was certain the door she stood in front of was Laerys'. She took a deep breath before knocking timidly on the door. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about what she was supposed to say; Helaena did not give her any instructions past 'present yourself'. 

Aobrey was not ready to face him again, especially not alone. If she had not already knocked, she would have left. She was considering leaving now. But the seconds dragged on and the door never opened. Perhaps he did not hear? This was her chance to go.

Aobrey took a step to the side, and felt incredibly foolish. What would Margaery say? What would her grandmother say? This was not how a Tyrell woman presented herself. She did not shy away from anyone, especially not a man. Approach with caution, perhaps, but never shy away.

Perhaps this was what the Targaryens wanted. Perhaps this was what Laerys wanted: a shy, weak-willed woman to lay down and bear his mad and misshapen spawn.

Unfortunately for him, Aobrey decided, he got a Tyrell instead.

She raised her hand and knocked again, louder this time. Time stretched with no response. Was he ignoring her? Ridiculous, she concluded. He could not know it was her. He must be out instead.

Feeling bold and spurred on by a dark curiosity, Aobrey tested the door. It was unlocked, cracking open with a slight creak. Her heart began to thump as she wondered what Laerys' room was like. Were there paintings on dragons on every wall? Were there cages hung from his ceiling, with the skeletons of tortured victims locked inside? Was there mad scribblings on the furniture, indecipherable to everyone but Laerys?

Aobrey pushed open the door a little further. Just a peek, she told herself, to truly see if he was out. Helaena had told her to, after all. Aobrey pushed the door open just enough to slip herself inside; so much for 'just a peek', she thought, but it was silly to back out now.

Aobrey found herself underwhelmed by the room. There were no sorcerous carvings or evidence of torture. There were not even any depictions of dragons. In fact, the room itself was austere; there was almost nothing indicating that this room belonged to anyone. The pale blankets on the bed were neatly made, and no personal artifacts were sitting out in the open. The only thing of note that caught Aobrey's attention was the book case.

It was full of books, from end to end. Books that had been opened at some point or another, as Aobrey noticed many of them had scraps of paper sticking out to mark a page. Histories, dramas, grimoires, even a copy of The Seven-Pointed Star graced the shelves. A few were in the common tongue, and many others were in languages Aobrey could never hope to identify.

As she perused the book case, Aobrey's eyes were drawn to the very top shelf; wedged between the wood of the book case and a book was a large, grooved stone. It looked just like the one Helaena carried around with her, only this one was a deep purple. Curiously, Aobrey lifted her hand to trace one of the grooves with her finger.

Just as she felt the cold, hard stone, the door slammed shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: rough translation of the Valyrian, as requested!
> 
> Laerys: How long do you intend to go on, brother? You speak too much. She is to be my wife, and all she can hear is you.
> 
> Maegon: Do not be a child. If you want to be heard, speak. And do not hide behind our tongue. If you want to insult me before your woman, let her hear you. No woman wants to fuck a child.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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